Sugar Brown
by HeavensDaughter
Summary: Unknown twin sister to Princess Snow White must journey to forge an identity in a world that has no place for her.
1. Prolouge

**Prologue**

My mother was the Queen of England. However, I wear no tiara and I sit upon no throne. How is this possible? You think I'm lying, I know you do, but it's the honest-to-God truth. The story of my father, though, is why I'm no princess. I clean the princess's boots, that's what I do. Let me explain a bit...

Mother was the type of woman who wanted adventure. She didn't want to sit primly in the castle mending her husband's socks and showering him with kisses when he came home from waging war or whatever it was that he fancied himself with doing. So when the very handsome and dashing privateer Sir Bellamy Roberts came to court to request a Letter of Marques to storm and plunder Spanish port cities during the war, mum saw her chance. What man in his right mind would refuse the Queen of England? Mum was still a young woman looking for some fun, just married at eighteen years old, and Captain Roberts was tall, dark, and handsome...you know, the whole bit. To make a long story short...nine months later the princess and I were born.

Mother took it as a blessing that I was born warm sugar brown and the princess was born snow white. She could hide me as a kitchen girl, a _kitchen girl_, and raise my sister as the King's daughter. The King must have had a highly inferior intelligence or mum had a rare streak of brilliance because he never knew. I grew up as my sister's maid until I was sixteen, then, everything changed, which I'm glad for. No one knows what it is like to hear someone agonize over the most idiotic things, day after day after day._ "Oh woe is me! I should not have had my hair cut, it would have looked so much better with the lavender dress if it were longer!" _And, _"I heard Prince Charming married some common girl, I hope this is not a new trend, woe is me!" _I tell you, I have never met such a pampered girl with so much woe. I held my tongue around Christelle, or Snow White, as she was called. I had to remind myself that she'd inherited mum's lack of judgment, blind trust, and general stupidity; therefore she could not be held accountable for the words that came out of her mouth.

The people in the kitchen called me Sugar Brown, or Gypsy Girl. I have no idea why they called me gypsy girl, unless my mother said gypsies left me at the castle door, which is highly unbelievable. I was a light honey brown complexion with loosely curly dark brown hair and hazel-gold eyes. I suppose I got my height from my father, because I was taller than most women in the castle. Unlike me, Christelle was daintily pretty with a lovely petite figure and long wavy black hair. She had eyes of the purest blue crystal and skin of the palest white...except for two identical rosy red cheeks. She always looked like a pretty little porcelain doll, and since she had the brain to match this was a bad combination. She was doomed the day her mother died.

The day her mother died, the King rejoiced, for he could marry another younger woman who could bear him many strong sons. His new wife was a princess from foreign lands with a falsely sweet smile and a sharp mind. She could get exceptionally jealous, and the moment she saw Christelle a rage was awakened in her. I knew it when she threw me out of the castle because she did not like the way the King looked at me. The woman was insane...the King had never spared me a second glance in his life. Because of that veritable witch I was out on my own with almost no money, only the clothes on my back, and no where to go. You all know my sister's tale...how her stupidity (honestly, who greets a stranger at the door _twice _after being almost murdered by the same stranger?) found her love? Well, today you get to learn my story.


	2. Rock Showers

**Chapter One**

I walked along the road, cursing as I'd learned to from the stable boys. The new Queen had just put me out on my bum, with no last guinea and only the clothes on my back. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. The only thing I was good for was cleaning and cooking...and no one in the area surrounding the castle needed a maid or a cook. I sighed, letting my eyes well up with tears of anger and frustration as my throat tightened and my ears began to heat up. _So do I just starve to death now? _Just as I had resigned myself to a long and hunger-filled death, a two-horse carriage came barreling down the road, and would've killed me right then and there if I hadn't jumped out of the way. With an exclamation of anger and disgust I picked up a rock...

Now, I knew I was making a _huge _mistake when I took that rock and decided to hurl it at the back of the carriage, but I honestly didn't expect it to actually make contact...or leave a dent for that matter. Within seconds of being hit, the carriage rolled to a stop and my heart jumped into my throat. First, I was a poor girl, then I was an _unemployed _poor girl, and now I was a _dead _unemployed poor girl. The person inside of the carriage was undoubtedly a noble, and nobles were not renowned for their kind hearts and understanding nature. _Oh God, oh God, _my mind kept chanting, _I'm going to die in this potato sack of a dress and holes in my boots._

The first thing to emerge was a pair of long legs in well tailored trousers..._great, a nobleman, _then came the obviously aristocratic hands, and then a head of full, glossy chestnut hair. He was a young man then, probably somewhere in his early twenties. If he was spoiled, I had a problem...though sometimes the younger nobles tended to be a little more soft-hearted. He looked around the outside of the carriage, and then under it. While he peered under the carriage I took this chance to start running in the other direction. Unfortunately, he must have heard my footsteps because he caught sight of me and called for me to stop.

"Halt!"

I froze, heart pumping, yet paralyzed. As he walked towards me, eyes of the clearest cornflower blue set in a finely sculpted face came into focus. He was an attractive one, that was for sure. I took a deep breath and steadied myself for what could very well be the last moments of my life.

"Lovely day for a rock shower isn't it?" he greeted me, almost casually.

"Absolutely," I nodded and turned to walk away in the other direction.

"Not so fast," he grabbed my arm. I snatched it back, glaring at him.

"I may not be of your rank, but you don't have to treat me like a dog," I snapped before coming to myself again. _Why did my mouth always say exactly what I thought? _"Er, um...begging your pardon good sir...I've no control over my words sometimes," I tried to laugh feebly.

He glared back at me for a while before speaking again. "That coat of paint and that carriage are both brand new, thank-you for damaging them."

"It isn't _noble _to run people over in the road," I pointed out.

"Tell that to my driver," he shrugged. "I stopped my trip to determine if anyone had been hurt."

_This was something new...usually carriages transporting nobles trampled you and then, without stopping, tossed one gold coin out of the window to pay for a funeral. _

"Oh, well...no, no I'm not injured..." I trailed off.

"Good, I'll just be shelling out fifteen guineas for a new paint job, then," he grimaced and turned to walk away.

It was a few seconds before I realized that this would probably be the last carriage that passed me by. He was obviously rich, and rich people always thought they needed more servants to take care of imaginary needs. Maybe, just maybe, he would be my ticket to food and safety.

"Wait!" I cried. He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Wait!"

I ran towards him and skidded to a stop on the dirt road, panting lightly.

"Yes?" he quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

"I...um...I don't...you wouldn't happen to need a maid would you?" I asked pleadingly.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't," he said shortly.

"Or a cook," I cried. "I can cook anything, just show me a recipe!"

He sighed and looked away. "What is your name?"

"Oribelle Roberts," I answered, still pleading with my eyes. I hated to beg, but I had no other choice.

"Ms. Roberts--"

"I don't care what the pay is, I'll take anything!"

"Ms. Roberts--"

"I don't mind doing dirty work!"

"_Ms. Roberts!"_

I fell silent; I had never been addressed as "Miss" anything. It was always, "you girl," or "gypsy girl."

"I am not in need of any more help around my home." My face promptly fell. "But I do own a very successful bed and breakfast, and we do need another cook."

"Really?" I looked back up at him with shining eyes.

"Yes, you may accompany me in my carriage; I was in the process of returning to The Eve from a friend's estate."

"The Eve?"

"I'm sorry; The Eve is my bed and breakfast."

Making our way to his carriage, I winced at the very obvious dent and paint scuff my rock throwing had caused.

"I didn't actually mean to hit your carriage; I was throwing _around _it, not actually at it."

"You meant to hit it."

"You're right, I did."

"See that nothing of the sort happens again," he looked at me sternly. I laughed inwardly. He must have copied that facial expression from his father or grandsire, for it did not fit him at all. His eyes were made for smiling.

"I don't even know your name, sir," I blurted.

"My apologies, I never gave it?"

"Nay."

"I am Sir Lucien Foxwood," he introduced himself as we reached the carriage itself.

The doorman coughed when he caught sight of me, turning up his nose as if to suggest that opening a door for me was the most disgraceful thing he could ever do. My face burned as I thought of how I must look in my dress worn bare at the elbows and stained around the hem with dirt; the boots on my feet were near the point of falling apart. He glanced at Sir Foxwood, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Looking at me as if I were some insect he would very much like to crush, he opened the door and held out his hand to me.

"What?" I asked, rudely.

"Do you require my assistance in entering the carriage?" he responded in clipped voice, looking down his nose at me.

"No I do not require assistance in entering the carriage," I mocked him, brushing past to hoist myself into the velvet-covered interior.

I heard Sir Foxwood sigh behind me and rolled my eyes. So what if I had been rude? I was often reprimanded in the kitchens for my "attitude problem" and "lack of respect." The way I saw it, people just did not know how to appreciate a little bit of honesty. Settling myself in, I waited for Sir Foxwood to finish his chat with the doorman. He came in to sit opposite me.

"Just who are you?" he asked.

"I am Oribelle Roberts, daughter of Queen Katherine and the privateer Sir Bellamy Roberts," I answered. As I knew he would, he choked on laughter threatening to bubble forth from his mouth.

"Daughter or Queen Katherine--?"

"And the privateer Sir Bellamy Roberts, yes."

"I'm sorry, I'm finding this quite unbelievable at the moment."

The carriage lurched to a start.

"Which is probably why no one ever knew."

"You expect me to believe Queen Katherine had an illegitimate daughter by a pirate?"

"Privateer."

"No matter. I will not employ a liar, Ms. Roberts, so unless you can convince me otherwise, I will put you out on the road again."

"Call me anything but a liar, I tell the truth!" I said angrily, and then calmed myself. This was the only person that was providing me with shelter, work and pay, and I had to admit that my story _was _hard to believe. I sighed. "It's like this; my mother was a young woman, just looking for fun when she married the King..."

I recounted the story of my life from when I was born to the moment the new queen, Queen Griselda put me out. Sir Foxwood's eyes glazed over once or twice, but I knew he would believe me. There was no way I could have fabricated such a story on the spot.

"...So that is when I threw the rock at your carriage. I _am _sorry...it wasn't the best day for either of us," I finished.

He nodded silently. "You have my trust in your honesty. Break it, and I will not have any space left for you in my establishment."

"Yes, sir," I said softly, and then I looked up. "Where is The Eve?"

"It overlooks the beaches on the coast of Port Chelsea. It was my great-great grandsire's estate. He was a flower merchant and grew some of the most beautiful flowers right on the grounds. We've kept all of the original gardens since transforming it into an inn."

"Port Chelsea? I've never been outside of the castle. Are we close?" I questioned, peeking out of the window. "I see water!"

Sir Foxwood chuckled at the childish rapture on my face, and I flushed, my honey cheeks staining with rose.

"I've never seen that much water," I murmured, with less excitement in my voice.

"That is the Atlantic Ocean, we're nearing Port Chelsea."

"I wonder if my father is sailing in these waters..."

"You...have never seen him, correct?"

"He was only at the castle that one night...when I was younger, I used to hate Christelle. I used to think that she should share my rag or I should share her crown...I know things are too complicated for that now, and I know the world isn't just. Things don't end perfectly, like a fairytale."

"There is always justice in the world, sometimes you just have to create it for yourself."

I sighed and continued looking out of the window. "We should be arriving soon, you said?"

"We've an hour left, I suppose."

"Mind you if I rest my eyes?"

"Nay, Ms. Roberts. I will wake you upon our arrival."

"Thank you, Sir Foxwood...for everything."

My eyes closed as I heard him respond with "you are welcome," and I leaned my head against a quilted, burgundy velvet wall and slept.


	3. Welcome to The Eve

**Chapter Two**

True to his word, Sir Foxwood woke me when we reached the also freshly painted doors of The Eve. It was a cheerful pale yellow building with white shuttered windows and a crisp navy door. A balcony stretched the length of the second and third floors, held up by graceful tapered columns. In carefully carved script, "The Eve Inn" was hanging above the front door. I smiled as I caught sight of an elderly couple lounging on a bench on the porch. The foul-tempered doorman opened the door and turned his nose up and grimaced as I jumped down unceremoniously from the carriage, still looking at the friendly façade of The Eve. English ivy trailed up the columns and rose bushes charmed the short walkway to the front door.

"This is all yours?" I asked, once I heard Sir Foxwood behind me.

"Yes," he smiled at the building with obvious pride. "We'll be using the service entrance. Redman, my bags."

I followed him around to the side of the inn, down cellar stairs, and through a plain wooden door to the kitchens and the servant's quarters. I looked around at the hustle and bustle surrounding me. It certainly wasn't much different than the castle. People were scurrying about to and fro, never sitting still. To an outsider, it would appear as though everyone was working at a frenzied pace, but when you were actually working, it did not seem that way at all.

"_You_ aren't going to show me my duties are you?" I asked, and then cursed my rudeness for asking a question of my superior. When I was younger, they'd tried to teach me to be respectful and mindful of the rules, but it was an exercise in futility. My mouth always seemed to blurt things out of its own accord.

Sir Foxwood only raised an eyebrow at me before he answered, though. "No, I'm leaving you off with Midge. Do your best to pay very close attention to her and follow everything she says. I may have hired you, but if Midge says I should put you out, I'll have no choice."

"She gives you orders?" my eyebrows knitted together.

"Midge is a bit high strung...easily upset, but she's a fantastic cook. I deal with her temper tantrums because her food is simply divine, and she trains her staff well. I don't cross her."

"She's your employee."

"I don't cross her."

"I'm sure we'll get along _famously_," I grumbled. He shot me an alarmed look and I imagined the scenes unfolding in front of his eyes and snickered.

"Ms. Roberts, I don't want to have to release you..."

"Relax, Sir Foxwood, I'll be on my best behavior," I promised earnestly.

We came to a stop in front of the kitchen area, where I could hear a contralto voice booming out orders. Sir Foxwood shot me a warning glance before we continued on.

"Midge," he called. "Midge!"

"Aye? Sir Foxwood, is it?"

A short, stout woman with curly reddish-brown hair came into view. She had sharp dark brown eyes and a reddish complexion, probably because of standing over hot stoves all day long. Wearing a blood-stained apron over her standard brown shift with a large butcher knife in her hand, she cut quite an imposing figure. Squinting one eye at me, she spoke to Sir Foxwood out of the corner of her mouth.

"New lass for me to train, eh?"

"Yes, Midge."

"Age?"

Sir Foxwood stared at me mutely.

"I'm sixteen years," I cleared my throat.

"Can ye cook any?" she asked me, squinting both eyes at me this time.

"I can cook anything, just show me a recipe once," I nodded proudly.

"Hmm. Experience?"

"I worked at Greenwich Castle beforeâ€•"

"She'll do," Midge cut me off, turning to Sir Foxwood. I restrained the impulse to tell her off for interrupting me and stood there patiently.

"Good, very good," he clasped his hands. "Ms. Roberts, Midge will show you your duties, and then you can meet everyone and get settled into your room."

I nodded and waved absently, looking around at the kitchen, where maids were now leaving with trays of food. Midge turned back to me a pierced me with her deep, dark brown eyes. She had forgotten the butcher knife was still in her hand and was now using it to point at me as if it were an extension of her hand. Eyeing it warily, I waited for her to speak.

"Your name, girl?"

"Oribelle."

She grunted. "Oribelle then, you're going to watch me make some of the most common dishes asked for on the menu. Then, you're going to meet the girls. You need to find a uniform so you can serve as well. Follow me," she gestured with the knife again.

Left with little choice but to follow the very portly Midge, I shadowed her footsteps and watched with great concentration as she prepared braised trout with ale bread. I committed every ingredient and step to memory and amazed her when I recreated the dish with no stress at all.

"You'll do just fine, you will," she murmured softly.

"Is there anything else you wish me to learn today?" I asked, politely. Midge seemed to respect me, but I didn't want to offend her in any way on the first day and create a lasting negative impression.

"Nay, you should be fine for tomorrow if you can just watch and learn as such," she shook her head. "After the supper rush is through, I'll introduce you to the serving-girls. For now, just acquaint yourself with the kitchen and try to stay out of everyone's way."

"Yes ma'am," I nodded.

"Call me Midge."

"Yes, Midge."

"Scurry along then," she said, smiling a half smile at me.

As I set off to learn where everything was kept, I let my mind wander as I hadn't been able to in the castle. It seemed as if I would be getting off to a good start at the Eve. Maybe cleaning the princess's boots had been good for something. I'd only ever been shown a task once, if that, so I'd had to learn quickly. Whenever she saw fit to acknowledge my incriminating presence, Mother never let me forget that my very life depended upon her charity, so there was no room for mistakes.

Walking out of the spice pantry, I bumped into a girl who looked to be more or less around my age. She was tall and slender with a mop of riotously curly ginger hair and muddled hazel-green eyes that peered at me curiously.

"So sorry," I mumbled.

"No it's alright. I wasn't watching where I was going," the girl smiled apologetically.

"I seem to have gotten lost...where's the way back out of the kitchens to the servant's quarters?" I questioned.

"You're the new lass everyone's talking about, then?" she asked me.

"Aye, I am," I nodded.

"I'm Rosalind, but everyone calls me Lindy" she said, sticking her hand out.

"Oribelle," I smiled, taking her hand. "Where I used to work, they called me Sugar Brown, but Belle will do."

"So, Belle, you wanted to know how to get back to the servant's quarters?" Lindy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye...I'll be able to remember my way around tomorrow, though," I answered.

"Well, for now, just follow me. I haven't a new roommate yet; you'll be sharing with me. Isn't that lucky to have met me already?" Not stopping for an answer she continued on. "Lucky I'm on a break too, otherwise you'd be stuck in the spice pantry for a while. It's all right though; I was lost my first few days here. I've been working here since my family died of the fever when I was but ten years old. I'm seventeen now. Wouldn't think of going anywhere else, though. I love The Eve like it's my own..."

I got the impression that Lindy liked to talk, and liked to take charge. She had an open face and a sparkling personality that masked any pain and suffering she had experienced when her family died and left her alone in the world. She walked with a bounce, and I imagined she stayed excited, even when working.

"...So she left the Eve and I had a room to myself for a whole month, but now you're here! I didn't like being alone, there was no one to talk to, so I'm pleased that I have someone else to share the space with," Lindy finished telling me of her last roommate.

"Well, I'm glad that I'm sharing with you, you seem like a very friendly person," I smiled. _That must've been the first truly gracious sentence that's come out of my mouth since...well, since._

Lindy swung the door open to reveal a room about the size of a small storage closet with two beds stacked on top of each other in one corner and a small chest of drawers in the other. There was one candle-holder and a Bible on top of the chest.

"The other girl left that Bible here, I can't read," Lindy explained. "I like to look at the pictures though..."

"I read," I admitted.

"Really?" she raised both eyebrows. "I didn't think...um...people not like...um...I don't want to say the word, I don't like the word...I'm sure you don't either...um..." Lindy faltered.

"It's okay; you can say it like that. As long as you don't actually _call_ me a moor, I won't get angry," I shook my head. "And yes, I wasn't supposed to learn how to read, but I'd sat in on enough of the Princess's tutoring sessions to pick it up myself."

"The Princess?"

"I used to work in Greenwich Castle."

"You were the Princess's lady-maid?"

"For a while...then I became a kitchen girl. The Queen did not like me much and put me in the kitchens where no one could see me."

"Oh," Lindy said softly and fell silent for half a second before she chirped back to life. "You don't have any belongings?"

"Nay, just the clothes on my back."

"Well since there's nothing to see in here, let's find you a uniform and meet everyone else. It must be past nightfall by now."

"Alright," I nodded and followed her out of our room.

I could feel that things were going to be a lot better than cleaning my sister's tiara from now on. Sure I was still a servant, but at least I wouldn't resent it everyday, and I had a friend already. The kitchen manager respected me. My employer...maybe he liked me; he didn't leave me stranded, that was for sure. I could call The Eve my home...for now.


	4. The Greatest Game

**Chapter Three**

It had been a month since I began working at The Eve, and I hadn't spent more than maybe five minutes a day talking to Sir Foxwood, so naturally it surprised me when he beckoned me over to him after the last guests had left the parlor and dining area and retired for the night. Full of curiosity, I made my way over to him, putting the tray of dirty plates down and smoothing the skirt of my standard gray serving dress with my hands. He was sitting in a corner of the room beside a small table with a small checkered board on it.

"You wished to see me?" I asked, not looking at him, but at the curious little sculptures placed upon the board.

"You do not know how to play chess, do you, Ms. Roberts?"

I sighed. "Look, I been real patient and all, but I can't have you calling me by that name."

"Pardon?"

"Ms. Roberts. I'm only sixteen, so just call me Belle."

"I seem to remember you saying that they tried to teach you propriety at the castle," he remarked mildly.

"Trying and succeeding are two different things."

"I see. So, Belle, then...I do not suppose you know how to play chess?"

"It wasn't part of my education," I said dryly. "What is chess?"

"The greatest game ever invented. A true test of concentration and strategy," Sir Foxwood smiled. I loved the way he smiled...his eyes twinkled and seemed more vibrantly blue than they actually were, and a dimple formed in his right cheek.

"Sit down, sit down," he urged me.

"Sit down?" I repeated dumbly. He nodded eagerly. No one of a higher rank had ever invited me to sit with them before. I cautiously sat down opposite him and wondered if this was a test of my diligence. "I'm not done working yet...I have to take the dirty dishes downstairs."

"You can do that later," he said with an airy wave of his hand. "Would you like to learn how to play chess?"

"I...I suppose, but why are you teaching me?" I asked, running my finger over the edge of the board.

"A man gets tired of playing against himself; I know all my own tricks," he grinned. "I hear that you are a quick study."

"Midge told you that?"

I was secretly pleased that she had thought enough of me to mention to Sir Foxwood how quickly I picked things up.

"Yes, she did, and I want you to know...garnering a compliment from Midge is not an easy task."

I'm sure I blushed a bit, but Sir Foxwood couldn't have seen it in the dim light of the dining room. "So what is this for?" I asked, picking up one of the smallest sculptures.

"That is called a pawn, they can move forward two spaces on the first move, and only forward once space every other move after that. The pawns take other pieces by moving diagonally," he explained, and then demonstrated what he meant. "If you get a pawn all the way across the board, it can become one of the other pieces, like the queen or the bishop."

He pointed out what each piece was called and how they moved, and I focused on it with every ounce of my concentration. "Pawn, rook, knight, bishop, queen, king," I recited.

"Can you guess which piece is the most powerful?" he raised his eyebrows at me.

"The king," I answered, without hesitation.

He shook his head. "The king is fenced in...he can only move one square at a time. Left alone, he is vulnerable. The queen is the piece on the board with the most power. She can move any way she wishes to protect her king."

"The _queen_," I laughed. "That's not the way it is off of the game board."

"Of course it is. The queen dictates the fate of the kingdom by birthing either a girl or a boy."

"That's not the queen," I laughed again. "That's nature."

"There is other power the queen holds over the king, but for now just know that the chess queen can move in any direction, any distance."

"Alright," I nodded. "Say, what's around The Eve anyway?"

"I don't see..."

"Well, you said distance, so I was thinking, what's around The Eve?"

"Well," he sighed. "There's a market, a jewelry store, an armory, and an apothecary on this main road...turn the corner and you're on the wrong side of town."

"What's there?"

"None of your concern."

"If you don't tell me, I'll just go and find out for meself, you know," I looked directly into his eyes.

"There's a tavern called The Scurvy Dog where all the pirates congregate. There are also two or three...er...brothels..."

_The Scurvy Dog, I'll have to remember that one. If all the pirates congregate there, maybe someone will know my father! Maybe I can find him!_

"Sounds interesting," I interrupted.

Sir Foxwood glared at me. "And that brings us back to chess; what we are here for."

He spent a good amount of time teaching me rules and moves and tips on how to fool your opponent. When speaking of his favorite game, his face began to glow and take on a boyish expression of simple joy that distracted me at times. We spent so long at the game board that the candle beside the table was nearly all melted down. Yawning, I declared that I was too tired to concentrate on learning any more about the "greatest game ever invented."

"Would you like me to walk you down to the cellar?" he asked kindly.

"Nay," I shook my head. "I can walk myself, besides I'm not too tired to talk for just a bit longer. I want to know some things about you," I said frankly.

Again, I thought he wouldn't answer me by the time it took him to speak, and when he did it was in a very slow, cautious voice. "What would you like to know?"

"Was your grandsire a Lord?"

"A great-great grandsire on my father's side was a Lord, yes, but he lost his title after challenging the Duke of Riverbend. My great-grandsire was a fourth son however, and could not hope for a title, so he had already bought this estate and turned it into the base for his flower business. You really should walk around the gardens in the back."

"I'll do that on my next break. How old are you?"

"Your sense of propriety really is blurred isn't it?" he looked at me with something akin to wonder, however he answered me anyway, as I had become used to him doing. "I am of one and twenty years."

"Why aren't you married?"

He spluttered. "I hardly see...this is just...I am ordering you to go to your quarters, now!"

"Alright, alright," I held my hands up in surrender. "Talk about high-strung..."

"Pardon me?" cords stated to show in his neck.

_Did I actually say that last part out loud? Well, he wasn't firing me now, so I might as well finish it up..._

"All I ask is a simple little question and you order me to bed like some child."

"It is not proper for an employee to inquire about her employer's personal life."

"I was curious. You already know my entire life story. It's only fair that I---"

"Belle, _I_ don't even know the answer to that question, you're not getting an answer," he said with a resigned sigh.

"Am I still sent off to bed?" I asked almost innocently.

"Yes!" he exclaimed.

"What about chess? Do I still get to learn how to play?"

"I'm weighing my options. Do I put up with your mouth every night or do I continue on in boredom, playing myself?"

"I'd put up with my mouth," I said sagely.

Sir Foxwood merely grunted in reply. "If we continue with chess, there will be no more questions."

"What are we supposed to talk about, then? How am I supposed to learn anything if I don't ask questions?"

"You know what kind of questions I mean," he looked at me sternly.

"Oh, alright then!" I scowled. "Should I meet you here every night after I'm done cleaning?"

"Maybe every other night. I do not wish for your performance to suffer during the day."

"It won't," I pledged.

"It had better not, or else Midge---"

"Midge loves me!" I exclaimed indignantly.

"Not that much," Sir Foxwood said with a chuckle. "She'd put me out some days if she had the power."

I joined him in merry laughter. After grabbing the tray of dirty dishes I'd set down before I sat with him, we made our way to the cellar stairs.

"Goodnight, Belle," he said softly.

"Goodnight, Sir Foxwood," I smiled and turned to walk down the stairs.

* * *

A/N

Imogenhm: Thanks for the reviews, I needed them to keep going!


	5. Rags

**Chapter Four**

As time went on, I became more and more adept at playing chess. I remembered all of the tricks Sir Foxwood had played on me and used them whenever we played again. This last game had ended in a stalemate, which, true enough, was not a win, but it was not a loss either. Maybe I would win next time. Closing the door behind me as I entered the darkness of our room, I thought Lindy was asleep, but she was very obviously awake once she opened her mouth.

"Hello Belle."

I jumped and my head whipped around to see who it was that had spoken.

"Oh! Lindy...you startled me," I laughed nervously.

She hopped down from the top bed. "You've been staying upstairs really late and coming back at odd hours. It woke me up the last time you did it..."

"I'm sorry, Lindy."

"...What have you been doing?" she eyed me warily. "Belle, I don't want to tell on you if you've been sneaking out, but if Foxwood finds out I'll lose my job too because I knew about it and said nothing. Tell me you're not sneaking out."

"I'm not sneaking out."

"I'm serious, Belle!"

"I am too. I'm not sneaking out, and Sir Foxwood knows. He's been teaching me how to play chess."

"Sir Foxwood is teaching you how to play a game?" Lindy asked suspiciously.

"Lindy, I'm telling you the truth, I wouldn't lie...you're my friend, you've got to believe me."

"I believe you...I'm just...why is he teaching _you _to play chess?"

"What's wrong with me?" I asked sharply.

"It's just..."

"Well, what is it?"

"We're all servants and he's of noble blood...why would he seek leisure with _any _of us?" she asked softly. "In the eyes of the world, none of us are good enough to share the same air as them."

"That's ridiculous," I said. I knew it was true though. There had been countless times when the Queen had ordered me to stand in the corner rather than sit close to her and Christelle. There had been countless times when I had been ordered to do all of my chores at night so that no one of rank would catch sight of me.

"It's the truth," Lindy shook her head. "Why is he spending his time with you?"

"I...I don't know," I admitted. "I don't really know."

Lindy looked at me sympathetically and put a hand to my shoulder. "We always have to remember our place. We were born to rags, this is who we are."

"I'm not rags," I cried. "I may not be noble, but I'm not rags! I can't believe that."

Lindy just stared at me before climbing back up to her bed. "Sorry," she said softly. It was not a true apology, for she hadn't done or said anything to sorry for. Lindy was sorry that she had spoken the hard, cold truth and I had not accepted it. I could never accept a truth that left me in the dirt, cleaning after other people who looked at me with scorn. I just couldn't.

* * *

"Belle, you're not concentrating," Sir Foxwood reprimanded me. "You left that bishop vulnerable to my rook."

I nodded and shifted my wandering attention back to the board. I tried to focus, but too many questions were left to be answered. _Was I right and Lindy wrong? She had to be. Serving couldn't be all that I was good for, could it? I could change my life, couldn't I? Was I...was I fooling myself in believing that Sir Foxwood actually thought of me as a friend? How do I think of him?_

"Check," Sir Foxwood sighed.

"Check what?" I murmured absently.

"Belle!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Where is your mind tonight?"

"I can't do this," I shook my head. "I can't do it."

"Do what? You're getting so much better. The last game was actually difficult for me..."

"No, it's not that. I just..."

He looked at me patiently, with nothing but understanding in his eyes. "Since I've known you, you've never been one to bite your tongue. Out with it, Belle."

"I'm a cook!" I blurted suddenly. "You own this," I waved around violently with my hand. "And we're playing _chess._"

"No, _I'm _playing, you're just sitting there moving pieces around," he laughed. When he saw that I wasn't joining him, he stopped and wore a serious countenance. "What is it?"

"We're not supposed to be friends," I said, looking at the board. "We're not supposed to be sitting together. Talking."

He looked confused. "When have you ever care about something being proper or not?"

"I'm always going to be a servant!" I cried, tears threatening to spill forth from my eyes. "I'm always going to have a rag in one hand polishing someone's tiara! Everyone's always going to look at the odd dark girl and poke fun at me. It would take me forever to save enough money to change that...and I don't even know if I can!"

"Hush," he beseeched me. "I don't want the guests to wake..."

"Aren't you listening?" I hissed. "Sitting here with you...playing chess...it's only adding to the fairytale. I don't want to make believe!"

"Fairytale? Make believe?"

"I can sit here and think I'm of equal station, that I'm just like you...and then I have to wake up the next morning and cook, and I'm disappointed. I didn't used to be disappointed...bitter...envious...but not disappointed."

"What has chess got to do with—"

"It's not the chess!"

"The guests..."

"Sod the guests!" I cried, finally letting the tears flow freely. I pushed my chair back and with an angry swipe to my cheeks, began to hurry toward the cellar stairs. _It hurt to stop when I was having so much fun, and learning so much. I didn't want to, but as Lindy said, I could not afford to fool myself any longer. Sir Foxwood would always be a noble, and I would always be an odd, brown serving girl who shouldn't even look him in the eye. _

"Belle," Sir Foxwood called after me, still in his even, aristocratic voice. He touched my arm softly, but I pulled it away.

"Please don't touch me...don't be nice to me. After all, I'm not worth it, am I?" I looked at him painfully.

"Who is this speaking for you?" he asked amazedly. "I know it is _not _the Oribelle Roberts I know. She would never utter such a sentence."

"She was a fool...with dreams."

"Dream of what? What dreams are so foolish?"

"Dreams of becoming...one of you. Dreams of pretty dresses and shoes without holes. Dreams of not having to work. Dreams...of...of..."

"Those aren't foolish dreams, Belle..."

"Aye? Tell me how I can make them come true?" I asked pitifully.

"That's still not you speaking," he shook his head. "You wouldn't ask me to tell you how to do anything for yourself."

"Sir Foxwood..."

He cleared his throat and looked as though he were struggling with himself. "I've never really asked anyone for anything for myself...so...this is kind of awkward, but please, please...don't stop talking to me because someone put some silly idea in your head. I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together, and if I had to go back to playing by myself I might go mad. You don't want to be the cause of my decent into madness, do you?"

I laughed softly, despite myself. "You're not mad already?"

"There she goes," he cracked a grin. "Forget what ever this thing is that someone said to you. In this short time, I've come to know you as someone who is determined and negligent of the rules...which can be a good thing in many cases...please don't change that either."

"O-Okay."

"Chess? After tomorrow?"

"I..." I hesitated and looked away, through one of the back windows.

"Please?"

"I'll be there," I nodded.

Sir Foxwood smiled broadly and bid me goodnight before retiring upstairs. I looked after him, silently thanking him for helping to make that defiant voice in my head stronger.


	6. Escapade

**Chapter Five**

As I had promised Sir Foxwood, the next break in shifts I had, I walked through the gardens behind the inn. I was nearly overwhelmed by the perfectly sweet scent of the perfumed air. I wanted nothing more than to sit on one of the shaded benches, close my eyes, and breathe. To my right and left were rose bush gardens, with bird cherry trees providing shade. Young couples were walking leisurely amongst the bushes, occasionally bending to smell a particularly beautiful rose. Continuing along the main path, I noticed that other paths joined the one I was walking on to lead to more gardens. I chose to make a turn at the one with small violets clustered around the entrance. Further down the path, the violets gave way to morning glories ranging in color from blushing pink to soft blue to icy lavender. Though temped to snap one off of a stem and place it in my hair, I resisted and only gazed at them in wonder.

The path ended at a circle of English oak trees that provided cool shade for creeping buttercups and woodland anemone flowers. In the very center of the ring of trees was a stone bench that shone with dazzling sunlight, coming through the opening in the foliage of the great oak trees. It was so peaceful and quiet here that even the birds only dared to chirp every once and a while. However, the peace was broken by the unmistakable sound of a woman shrieking.

"Put him out! I don't care _who _he is! He hasn't got a coin to his name so he hasn't the right to touch me!"

Ever curious, I crossed the circle and came through on the other side. There was a low stone wall just visible through the thick branches of boxwood bushes, and if I jumped up a bit, I could faintly make out the end of a sign that read "…Tavern." _Sir Foxwood's land extended all the way back to the other side of town? The other side of town…The Scurvy Dog!_ I gasped in excitement and began thinking of ways to get over the wall. Scanning the length of the wall, I caught sight of a sturdy-looking rowan tree and climbed far enough up so that I could stretch over to sit atop the wall, which was low enough for me to not fear for my life. Nearly trembling with anticipation, I managed to jump down from the wall intact and take in the sight of "the wrong side of town."

It seemed as though there was action on every corner, and though dirty and grimy, the streets had a certain vitality to them that the other side of town did not. Pickpockets and tricksters, pirates and their armorists called these streets home, or at least a resting place. My eyes were rounded as wide as they could go so that I could catch every little detail. I wanted to remember the little old man sitting on the curb outside of the Scurvy Dog Tavern, apparently too drunk to stand. I wanted to remember the shrieking woman in the scarlet and black dress chasing a stumbling man in tattered clothes out of Lady Anne's. I wanted to remember what looked like a sword fight about to take place.

These were all negative images of liars and cheats and sinners, but I wanted to remember them anyway. I had never seen such things in my life. It seemed as though I was looking at an entirely different world. Just steps outside of a peaceful garden lay this…

Hurrying across the street, I made my way to the Scurvy Dog. Feeling a bit unsure of myself, I took a deep breath, pushed the door open…and nearly choked on the thick scent of tobacco in the air. It seemed as if every man had a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pipe in the other. Despite the fact that it was only some time around five o'clock, it was very dim inside the tavern. So dim, in fact, that it took a while for me to readjust my eyes.

"Ay gel! Just gonna stand there 'n block the doorway, are ye?" a gravelly voice growled behind me.

Wisely making no response, I moved out of the way and into the shadows, where I stood, just watching. The men sitting at the bar had taken to singing a rather bawdy song, sloshing their drinks out of their glasses without a care. The barmaid looked quite annoyed, but she put on a false smile as one of the men urged her to sing along.

I grinned slightly and turned away from the bar, searching for a place to sit. As my eyes roamed the tavern, my ears caught snatches of conversation.

"So I says to him, I says: have at it then!" one man said, banging his fist on the table for emphasis.

"And what did 'ee do Jim?" the other asked.

"Well, 'ee ran at me wif 'is sword, he did," Jim answered in a matter of fact tone. "An he cut off me hand, but not before I plunged me own sword through his whole body five times. He was cuttin' off me hand as 'ee was fallin' to the groun'."

"Wha…? But your hand is on your wrist!"

"Aye, _a _hand is on me wrist."

"It aint yours?"

"Nay. It's a fake 'un."

"Fake, aye? Give it here!"

"Hey! Hey! Wait just one minute Tom!"

I was nearly shaking with laughter as Jim scrambled for a reason not to show Tom his "fake" hand. The whole story had obviously been made up as it made no sense whatsoever. I spotted one last seat at the corner of the bar and inconspicuously slid towards it. The man beside me was staring into the bottom of his glass, swirling the last dregs of ale absent-mindedly. He did not even spare me a single glance. In the dim candlelight I could barely determine what he looked like and how old he was. He was a youngish man, but his hands and face were weathered by the sun and salt. His long, dark hair was pulled back by a thin leather thong and it hung, falling in curls past his shoulders. I did not realize I was staring at him unabashedly, and gave a little start when he abruptly swiveled to face me, fixing me with a set of deep, brown eyes.

"Sorry," I muttered with a blush, and he turned away without saying anything.

Taking my cue from him, my eyes began to roam the rest of the tavern, and my ears began to filter through the many loud and raucous conversations.

_"A whale, it was, bigger 'n this here tavern!"_

_" Shark, just bit 'im in half!"_

_"Fifty pounds of gold, all lost to Davey Jones' locker."_

_"Ah, well you know what they say: a woman on board's the worst luck of all."_

_"No, no, you don't get scurvy if you've got lemons or limes or summat on board."_

I was so caught up in absorbing the world around me that I didn't notice when someone sidled up next to me.

"A little out of place, aren't you?" a man growled in a voice thick with a hard life and hard drinking and smoking. I looked at his face and suppressed a shudder.

He had eyes of forever; black holes that leeringly squinted at me out of the face of a street rat. His hair was _not _neatly tied back; it stuck out wildly from his head in every different direction, like a menacing salt-and-pepper cloud. His face seemed to have bits and pieces missing from it, making him all the more grotesque.

"Now that you mention it, yes, I think I am, I'll just be going…now," I said quickly, stumbling over my words as I hopped down from the barstool. "Free seat!"

His hand clamped down on my wrist. "Not so fast, dark one."

"Let me go!" I hissed.

"Make me," he breathed in my face. I gagged at the fan of hot, reeking breath. He was grinning at me now, a smile of broken yellow teeth. I wrenched my wrist out of his grasp and hit him across the face, quickly running for the tavern door.

I heard a howl of pain. "Ayi! Me nose! The moor girl's broke me nose! Ten pence to any bloke that catches 'er!"

_Shite! How do I get myself in these predicaments?_

I swung the door open as hard as I could, letting it smack whoever was behind me full in the face. As I ran into the street, I chanced a look behind me and saw that there were at least four young men following my trail. Thankfully, they were all in different stages of inebriation or intoxication, and were probably not on top running form. However, they were still pretty close to me.

"Lookit 'er run for it!" one howled.

The stone wall was within sight…all I needed was a way to get over it. Praying on every one of my lucky stars, I stopped at the wall and waited until the four men reached me.

"Hello, boys," I smiled.

They looked confusedly at each other and then back at me.

"Get her," the tallest one growled. I locked my eyes onto him and did not let him out of my sights, he would work nicely.

In a flash they all lunged for me, but I danced just out of reach, appearing behind them. "Ready?" I yelled, taking a running start to jump on the tallest one's back. I then went into a frenzy, pulling hair, pinching, kicking, and punching.

"Agh! Gerroff! Gerroff!" he yelled. Every time one of his friends got close, though, I would begin to flail wildly while still keeping myself firmly on his back. Eventually, he had to resort to slamming me against the stone wall. The wind was nearly knocked out of me, but I kept my wits about me long enough to use the wall to push myself up so that my hands were gripping the ledge and my feet were on his shoulders.

"Thanks, mate," I breathed, pushing off of his shoulders and catapulting myself over the wall.

Time seemed to slow as I fell to the grass below. If I thought the wind had been knocked out of me before, I was surely wrong. As I hit the ground, the world exploded behind my eyes in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. I felt as if my ribs had caved in over my lungs and my spine had disintegrated, leaving me like a blob of jelly lying in the dirt. I tried to cry out in pain, but my voice would not come. My mouth opened in silent agony, and I slowly rolled onto my stomach, trying to release a scream that would not come into the dirt. The young men's voices began to fade into the distance.

"She's mental!"

"So what do we do now?"

"I aint jumpin' over that wall. That's rich man Foxwood's property, that is!"

"Aye, let the darkie get hanged for tresspassin!"

I don't know how long I lay there, alternately still and trembling, but the shadows cast by the trees had moved a considerable distance by the time I was sure I had broken no bones. I was sure that my break was over by now. Slowly, gingerly, I got to my feet and begun the long walk back to the kitchens. _And what had I earned from my little trip to the Scurvy Dog? Nothing!_

The violets and morning glories that had once been so lively and enchanting seemed to droop with my sadness as I trudged along the trail. Just as luck would have it, as I was almost close to the kitchen door, I was met by Susanna, a waif of a girl who had never liked me. _So much for being unseen_. She cut her eyes at me and opened her mouth with a self-righteous air, but I interrupted her.

"I'm not in the mood, Susanna," I rasped. "So just save it."

"I know your little secret," she hissed.

"What the devil are you talking about?"

Her little body was shaking with both fear and excitement. "You and Sir Foxwood. I know you've been sneakin' around with 'im."

"Susanna, you don't have the faintest idea what you're speaking of. Just let me go inside and save yourself the embarrassment," I said with as much disdain as I could manage.

"You trollop! You've probably been to the apothecary, haven't you?"

"You've no right to go calling―"

"Stay away from him," she growled. "He's mine! Ye hear me? Mine!"

"I don't want him, he doesn't want _me, _and he most certainly doesn't want _you_. Calm―"

But she had already drawn her hand back and slapped me across the face.

"Strumpet! Go back to whatever brothel you crawled out of."

I may have been weak at that moment, but I certainly wasn't going to stand for that! The sensible thing to do would have been to call for Midge, but no one had ever accused me of being sensible. Before I knew what I was doing, Susanna was under me and my hand was around her throat.

"Take it back," I panted.

She shook her head, eyes wide with fear.

"Take it―"

Strong hands gripped me around my waist and I flailed wildly, demanding to be put down. I turned around to face Sir Foxwood, looking as angry and red-faced as I had ever seen a man. Susanna turned over on her side and coughed pathetically.

"What is the meaning of this?" he ground out, staring from one of us to the other.

"She slapped me! I swear I―"

"She choked me! She's a heathen―"

He held his hand up and signaled for us to shut our mouths. "You're both lucky all of the guests are in the interior dining room for tea, or you'd be sacked on the spot." He turned to me and his voice took on a somewhat gentler tone. "Oribelle, explain what happened."

Susanna, who had since gotten to her feet, looked incredulously from me to Sir Foxwood. "I knew it!" she hissed and stalked off towards the servants' quarters without a backwards glance.

I looked at my feet, knowing how I must look with dirt and grass stains all over my shift, my hair a mess of curls, and a deep red bruise forming on my left cheek. I didn't have to look up to know that Sir Foxwood ran his hand through his hair when he gave a deep sigh.

"Miss Roberts?"

_Shite. _"Aye?"

"I told you when I hired you, I did not want to put you out, but if you're causing problems―"

My head shot up. "Oh it's automatically the moor's fault, aint it?"

"I would never call you a―"

"But you're thinkin' it!" I cried, looking defiantly into his eyes. "I didn't start anything with Susanna! She approached me! She accused me of…things I don't want to repeat."

His cornflower blue eyes searched mine for a few moments before he spoke again, this time in a voice barely above a whisper. "What did she say? What did Susanna accuse you of?"

All at once I noticed how close we were standing to each other. One of his hands was on my shoulder and the other was circled loosely around my wrist. My eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know? Not going to believe me anyway, are you?"

I stormed away, following Susanna's path.

* * *

**Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**Imogenhm, Malista, Lil' Fairy Aerie'z In Lov, and Impressed.**

**Impressed:** Sorry, there's no Snow White planned for this story as of yet, but perhaps she'll make an appearance when I work out all the kinks of the plot.

**More reviews please!**

(Sorry it's been so long)


	7. By Firelight

**Chapter Six**

It had been three days since the "incident," as I had come to call it. Lindy had finally stopped asking me what was wrong, and Midge had taken to looking at me with a mix of pity and confusion. Susanna and I avoided each other at all costs; we were both afraid that I would do something to hurt her. Sir Foxwood and I…hadn't spoken since. Tonight was a chess night though, and I supposed I could not avoid him forever. As I wiped down my last table, I felt a prickling at the back of my neck, telling me that I was not alone in the dining room. Focusing intently on ignoring Sir Foxwood, I cleaned the same table three times before I noticed I was making a fool of myself. Heaving a world-weary sigh, I dropped my rag into the bucket and made my way to the door with my back a little too straight to seem relaxed. Like a bell, Sir Foxwood's voice rang through the dark dining room.

"I apologize."

With my back still turned, I gave a little smile. _There's still hope for him yet. _I allowed myself to relax and dropped the bucket, facing him. A single candle was lit at his table, the light from the flame dancing over his face.

"It's about time," I said, not too sharply.

"You're back then?" he chanced a smile.

"I've been here," my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I mean…the Oribelle Roberts I've come to lo…like. I've missed your exasperating, never-ceasing chatter. If you can believe it, the silence nearly drove me insane."

I laughed softly, walking towards the table. "How many times do I have to tell you, Sir Foxwood―"

"Lucien."

"What?" I stared rudely.

"I think we've broken every other formality. You're a friend, call me Lucien."

"Well then, how many times do I have to tell you, Lucien," I rolled my tongue around his name, liking the way it came from my mouth. "You're already mad."

"At least once more," he said softly.

A tension settled in the room, but much unlike the thick, uneasy one of before when I was still angry with him. This tension was lighter, and yet more dangerous. I had the feeling that I was dancing on the edge of a precipice, where one false move would send me spiraling downwards to no end. This was not the kind of tension thatseemed sodense it could be cut with a knife; this was a haze of tension so inconsistent and fluid that you had to _slide_ through it. Sir― Lucien seemed to notice it as well, for he cleared his throat awkwardly, yet said nothing.

"This is a chess night, isn't it?" I asked stupidly, jumping at the sound of my own voice.

"It is…you still wish to play, do you not?"

"I do," I nodded.

"Well…let us begin," he said, offering me another grin. _Damn my heart for flopping over at that smile._

As the game went on I became more and more confused. Thoughts were swirling madly in my mind. I found myself lingering on the moment three days ago when Lucien tried to make me tell him what Susanna had accused me of.He'd _touched _me. I'd been touched by men before, sure, grabbed roughly by the wrist, slapped on the hand, pushed, but I had never been touched with such concern. I was struck then, by how little the color of my skin must've meant to him. Lucien was really a man unlike any other I'd ever known.

As he studied the game board in quiet concentration, I secretly studied him. In the firelight, the chestnut hair that flopped boyishly over his forehead in gentle waves had a honey-brown glow to it, lending to him a vulnerability that was not there in ordinary circumstances. His eyes twinkled and glittered like the sapphire jewels in Christelle's tiara, but with so much more intensity. At once his forehead relaxed (_his skin is so smooth) _and he gave the pieces a half of a grin (_his smile is so free) _as he slid his bishop across the board, taking the knight that was protecting my king. I noticed how _inviting _his hands were; wide palms, long, unscarred fingers with clean, neat nails. My hands fidgeted in my lap, I wanted to feel his palm against mine.

"Check," he nearly sang at me.

I looked up at him, startled out of my thoughts. I blushed; I should have been paying attention to the board, not his damned attractiveness. Shaking my head as if it would refocus my thoughts, I stared at the game.

His king was backed into a corner, protected in front by a pawn, and his queen would never leave more than four spaces to the side and two spaces in front of the king, protecting him from threats as they got too close. If I moved my rook so that it was on the same row as his king, his queen would move diagonally to take it. If I moved it to the same column as his king, his other bishop would take it. Looking at the board with great focus, I noticed that my queen was _not _as trapped by his two pawns as I thought it was. A rush of excitement passed through me, though I hid it well. All I had to do was move my queen diagonally so that she was on the same row as his king and it was checkmate. It would take his queen two moves to do away with mine, and his king was trapped by his own pawns! I won! Smiling slyly at Lucien from under my lashes, I slid my queen diagonally to rest menacingly three spaces away from his king.

"Mate," I stuck my tongue out childishly.

"What?" he nearly yelped.

"Checkmate," I said simply, grinning from ear to ear. "Look at the board all you want to, it'll tell you the same."

He grumbled as he looked at his king, cornered by my queen.

"Make a move, I _dare _you," I giggled.

Lucien heaved a great, dramatic sigh. "No, no, a man can tell when he's been beaten."

"I won! I won!" I sang. "And you looked so smug when you said check!"

"Oh alright, enough," he snapped, but laughed good-naturedly.

"I knew I was getting good, but I never actually thought I'd _win_," I said thoughtfully. "You've been playing so much longer than me…you didn't let me win, did you?"

His expression told me all I needed to know; he looked as if I'd just thrown a brick at him and hit him dead in the face. "Heavens no!"

"Alright, I'm glad to know I won on my own," I bit back another smile.

"Belle, I'd never deceive you in such―"

"I shouldn't have assumed―"

"You _are _really good."

I blushed again. _What's wrong with me? Am I turning into Christelle? _"Thank you."

There was another awkward silence, and for some inexplicable reason I felt compelled to answer the question he'd asked me three days ago.

"Susanna accused me of― behaving in an― of― breaking the vow of…oh, sod this! She accused me of lying on my back for you."

I looked at the floor after blurting this bit of information; my honey skin was most definitely glowing red by now. Lucien seemed to be choking on air.

"She wha―"

"I don't know what made me say it…just now. I was going to keep it to myself, but I had to― I'm not like that, y' know?"

Still looking quite short of breath, Lucien nodded. His cheeks were as red as I supposed mine were.

"She told me to go back to whatever brothel I crawled out of. It's like Queen Griselda…she sacked me because she thought the King was paying _attention _to me. The King doesn't even know I'm _alive._ I'm a good lass, I am," I said in a slightly pained voice. I hated how weak I sounded.

"You are," Lucien stated simply. "You're a very hardworking, quick-witted young lady―"

"I aint no lady, now."

"I say you are, and you are," he looked at me sternly.

I laughed at his expression. "Alright, then."

"And you don't deserve for people to behave so unjustly towards you."

"Wherever did you fall from?" I asked, looking at him in wonderment.

"Pardon?"

"You have every reason to not be nice to me, and yet…and yet―"

"Au contraire, Belle; I have every reason to be extremely nice to you. You've brought good humor and a new sense of enjoyment to my life. I love The Eve, she has been all I've known for years, but you have filled a spot that I did not even know was empty."

We were dancing _way _too close to the edge of that precipice.

"Th-thank you," I stuttered like a fool. I gazed at the candle flame to avoid looking at Lucien; it had nearly melted all the way down. "I should probably be in bed right now; early day tomorrow and all…"

Lucien seemed to snap out of a trance-like state. "Yes, yes, I should probably head upstairs as well." He began to put away the pieces of the board.

"Here, let me help―"

"No, it's quite alright―"

But our hands had already brushed each other in my attempt to help him put away the game. I felt an electric shock jolt through me and I grabbed my hand with the other. Looking up, I saw that Lucien looked the same as I.

"My apologies," I muttered, blushing harder than ever. _What a fool am I!_

"No, no…" he trailed off.

I slowly made my way from the table, picked up the bucket I had dropped earlier and began to make my way downstairs. As my foot touched the first step, I turned over my shoulder to look at Lucien, who was trembling ever so slightly as he snapped the lid of box of game pieces closed.

"Goodnight, Lucien."

He jumped and faced the sound of my voice. "Dream well, Oribelle."

Once I had tucked myself into my bed and closed my eyes, I was shocked to find the first image I thought of to be Lucien's smile. _What have I gotten myself into?_


	8. Mysteries

**Chapter Seven**

The haze of confusion that had fallen over me two nights ago had lasted for only day. I rarely saw Lucien if it was not a chess night, so the thoughts that had plagued me so much had receded to back of my mind. In fact, any inner turmoil I had experienced that night was temporarily forgotten as I hummed an old tune I'd learned in the kitchens at Greenwich Castle to myself and swept the front porch of The Eve. One of the cleaning girls had fallen ill and I volunteered to pick up the slack. I didn't mind it so much; doing random cleaning jobs around The Eve was a welcome break from the heat and frenzied pace of the kitchens. As I was solely focused on making the porch look clean and inviting, I didn't notice the man sitting at the other end until he spoke.

"So you weren't hanged for trespassing," a voice carried over the sound of my humming. I looked around, confused. When my eye fell on him, my forehead creased even further…how would he know about that little misconception? He did not resemble a one of the four young men who had chased after me. For one, he was relatively clean.

"Have we met?" I asked with a touch of annoyance. As soon as the question left my lips, however, the light of recognition washed over me. He was the man at the tavern I had been staring at so frankly.

"Briefly," he answered with a wry twist of his lips. "Jack Trade, jack of all trades."

I wondered briefly if he was serious about his name, but I decided not to even acknowledge his introduction and instead I angrily used the handle of the broom as a pointer to put him on the spot. "You follow me here?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm a passing seaman, looking for a bit of rest and recuperation."

"Codswallop," I snorted. "I remember you giving your last two pence to the barmaid for a pint, you haven't got nothing in those pockets but air."

"Perceptive one aren't you?" he grinned.

I remained stoic. "If you aint a paying guest, get off this property―"

"You aint the―"

"Or I'll call the owner."

Faced with no other option, the man released a sigh and told me why he had followed me back to the Eve. "When you broke Barmy Bill's nose―"

I gave an unladylike chortle of laughter. "Barmy Bill?" I breathed incredulously.

"Well, that's what they call him; his name's Bill and he's barmy. So anyway, when you broke his nose ―by the way, good shot― I got curious. Then I heard that you scared the shite out of four men and jumped over Foxwood's wall, and I got even more curious. Now I find that you work here and you snuck out to the Dog; it was obviously your first time there. You've got me wondering what…or who you were looking for."

"What's it to you?"

"It's been a while since I had some real mystery in my life, and like I said, you've got me curious."

I studied him then, grinning up at me in the sunlight. He sounded like a walking joke, but he seemed harmless enough. The threat of calling Sir Foxwood had been enough to force him into honesty. This "Jack Trade" was certainly nothing like that disgusting, misshapen old man, Barmy Bill.

"I can't be seen lazing about, you know," I said quietly, looking around. I didn't want anyone to see me, or worse, hear me, especially not Susanna. "You've kept me from my work long enough, but I can make…arrangements."

"Arrangements, eh?"

"When the moon is high, be at the Dog sitting in the same spot, alright?" I said, looking at him steadily, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You've got secrets about you, that's for sure," he nodded.

"Now get off this property and never set foot near it again unless you've got money!" I said, loud enough so that anyone who had been might have been trying to listen in could hear me.

Trade winked at me and tipped his hat. "Never again, miss."

Feeling greatly confused, I watched him amble down the porch steps and make his way back to the other side of town. I had never met such people before in my life; from Lucien to Barmy Bill to Jack Trade, my life seemed to be taking curious turns. I wondered what my meeting with Trade later on tonight would reveal to me. He appeared to be a pirate down on his luck, but there was more to him than that. I could see no trace of cruelty behind his open smile and sparking brown eyes. I recalled our first meeting at the tavern though…he had not been full of such good humor then. In fact, he'd practically tried to kill me with a glare just for looking at him. _Alright, so I _had _been staring a bit… _

"Belle, the bed in ocean view suite four needs to be redressed; Mister and Missus Hyde are leaving," a girl named Kate informed me from the door.

"Alright," I nodded. I sighed and let all thoughts of Jack Trade return when the sun set.

After dinner, I cleaned the dining room in what must have been record speed. Ordinarily, I would have lingered on each table and taken my time waiting for Lucien, but I couldn't possibly meet him tonight. Instead, I hurried through my duties without my usual care and scribbled a hasty note, leaving it on the seat of the chair he usually sat in.

_Lucien,_

_I'm resting tonight; I'm feeling a bit ill. Don't wait up for me._

_-B._

I felt bad about lying, especially when he believed in me so much, but I _had _to see what this Jack Trade was on about. I carefully snuck out of the back service door under the cover of night and a black cloak. Now that I knew the way to the Scurvy Dog, I didn't have to make my way through the gardens and jump over the wall again. I'd rather not have to explain away any random bumps and bruises tomorrow. Keeping the hood of my cloak securely over my head, I quickened my pace as the Scurvy Dog came into view. This time, I was prepared for the cloud of tobacco upon opening the door, but I didn't gag any less. Sliding in between cluttered tables, I made my way to the back, where Trade was waiting. I slid into the empty seat beside him and he turned to look at me.

"I wonder…is it just as dark under that cloak?" he asked. I supposed he was asking if I was the same girl he'd met before.

"Aye, it is," I answered. "I don't want Badger Bob or whoever to recognize me."

"Smart move," he grinned slightly.

"So what do you want to know about me?" I asked bluntly.

"Who is this splash of color who's just appeared out of nowhere and broken Barmy Bill's nose?" he asked seriously, looking into the depths of the black cloak, searching for my eyes.

"Oribelle _Roberts_."

"Roberts, eh?" he arched an eyebrow. He pretended to be only vaguely interested, but I could practically see the gears turning in his mind. A light turned on behind his eyes.

"Something interesting about my surname?"

"Well, there's this bloke I know, he's a privateer, savvy? See, he's got the same skin as you, and his name is _Bellamy_ Roberts. Aint no other brown seafarin' man that frequents England, I'm sure. So aye, your name is a bit interesting."

"Interestingly enough," I drawled, playing along. "He's my father."

"You don't say?" the man whistled low. "Now, every seaman worth his salt knows about Cap'n Roberts, but no man knows he has a _daughter._"

"Not even him," I confirmed. "No one save my employer and now, you, know about my existence…and my mother, but she's dead."

"So sorry to hear that, but you wouldn't mind telling me who she was, now would you?"

"As a matter of fact I would. Telling you that would put some people in…bad positions."

"The mystery continues," Trade remarked."So Roberts has never met you, eh?"

I sighed. "No, I've told you, he knows naught of me, but I'm his daughter."

"And you're not tellin' a sailor's tale?" he asked, those expressive eyebrows of his both rising as far as they would go.

"What reason would I have for lying? A privateer means nothing to nobody."

"Right, right…" Trade trailed off. I suspected Captain Roberts meant something to _him. _

"Have I satisfied your curiosity?" I asked sharply.

"Well, not quite," Trade cleared his throat. "See, every seaman worth his salt may know _of _Cap'n Roberts, but only a few know him _personally._"

My heart skipped a beat. "You…"

"Aye, I know 'im," Trade scowled. "I sailed under _Roberts _for a time before he let me go for challenging his _authority_. Ten years of unwaverin' loyalty and this is what I get for simply…. Anyway, would you like to find this rogue of a father of yours?"

I chose my words carefully. "Well, I suppose I should."

"Now, I know his routes, Oribelle, I know where he is at every moment. I could take you to him, easy, with a ship of my own."

"R-really?" I nearly squeaked.

"Yes, really," he said as if talking to a very small child. I scowled again, though he couldn't see me.

"Alright, now."

"The question is, Miss Roberts, what would you be willing to give up?"

My body stilled. "Begging your pardon?"

"You're employed―

I breathed a sigh of relief. _That's what he meant._

_―_and you look to be well-clothed and well-fed. Life on the sea aint easy, girl. You sure you want to be doing this?"

Finding my father meant I would be leaving The Eve, leaving chess, leaving Sir Foxwood, leaving everything I'd come to know, but it was time for me to be selfish. All of my life I'd been serving someone else; when was it my turn to serve myself? Servants were valuable, but Sir Foxwood would be able to replace me easily enough. I liked the friendship we had developed, but the sea was calling to me. _Maybe it's the pirate in me; the tide must ebb and flow in my veins. _I had to go; I would hate myself forever if I didn't.

"Aye, I am."

"In that case, we'll be leaving in two days, noon. I expect―"

"Two days?" I echoed.

"We've got to catch him on his way to the West Indies…the later we delay, the greater our chances of missing him."

"But…you don't even have a ship!"

"I'll have one by noon in _two days_," Trade said mysteriously.

I thought I would have more time to…get used to the idea of leaving everything behind, but sacrifices had to be made. I had to know who I was, didn't I?

"Alright," I said hesitantly. "Where do I meet you then, Trade?"

"The wharf. You'll know which ship is mine when you get there. Might have some trouble gettin' you aboard, but we'll make it. You swim any?"

I thought back to the time when one of the stable boys had tried to drown me in the pond behind the stables. I don't know if what I did qualified as swimming, but I was still alive and the stable boy was a bit worse for the wear for a while after that.

"A bit."

"Good enough," Trade nodded at me and pushed away from the bar.

"But wait!" I called after him.

He turned to look at me with one eyebrow arched. "What is it, lass?"

"How…" I trailed off. I didn't even know what I was going to ask him. Everything seemed to be rushing and blending together in a whirlwind of events and names.

Giving a sigh, he walked towards me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Just bring yourself to the wharf, everything else is taken care of."

As I watched Jack Trade, the self-proclaimed jack of all trades, open the door of the tavern and stride outside, moonlight made a silhouette of his form. The door closed again, and I felt a deep drum roll somewhere inside of me; another chapter of my life finished, and yet another one began.

Sometime after the shock of what had jus happened wore off, I left the tavern and made my way back to The Eve. As I snuck into the room I shared with Lindy, she woke and her voice filtered through the dark.

"Late chess night?" she asked, sleepily.

My heartbeat quickened and my cheeks flushed with a mix of guilt and shame. "Aye."

"Oh," she yawned. "Wish someone would take me away from cleaning all the―"

"Lindy?"

"Huh?"

"I don't feel well, I'm gonna go to sleep."

_I'm turning into a regular old liar now._

"Okay," she said through another yawn. "Feel better, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lindy."

In the silence of the night, I debated with myself once more. I'd already told Jack Trade I'd meet him at the wharf; I couldn't just back out now. My feelings about Lucien were already so confused and muddled that leaving would probably do me more good than harm. We were friends, but I felt as if I should stay far away from him now…which made no sense. I felt horrible about planning to leave Lindy and Midge with no explanation, but I had to, I just _had _to. As I let myself drift into sleep, it crossed my mind that Trade had been a little too agreeable to helping me find my father. In fact, if I remembered correctly, he had been the one to suggest it. Why was Jack Trade so eager to help me find my father? What was in it for him?


	9. Promises

**Chapter Eight**

It seemed as if all of the brightness and gaiety of The Eve had been sucked out the second I decided to leave. It was raining today; nearly opaque sheets of rain had pounded the earth steadily since the morning. The usually comfortably dim kitchens were now dark, dank and depressing, and the heat of the stove was nearly unbearable when coupled with the humidity. There were no quick bursts of laughter, lively discussions about the guests, or daily gossip from about the town. Even my normally springy chocolate curls hunk lank with rainwater and sweat. As I lazily stirred the simmering pot of beef stew with one hand and wiped my forehead with the other, Midge looked at me with a concerned expression.

"You don't seem yourself this afternoon," she remarked almost casually while chopping wild onion.

"I don't?" I tried to laugh, feebly.

"No, not at all," Midge looked at me with a discerning eye. "Something on your mind, Belle?"

"No," I tried to answer, but ended up choking on the word.

The knife that had been keeping a steady "tap tap tap tap" rhythm on the cutting board paused. Midge sighed and spoke with a gentleness in her voice that I had never heard from her before. "Now, I can't force ye to talk if ye don't want to, but…I am listening."

That was about all I could take. I couldn't take Midge being so _nice, _knowing that I was about to betray everyone's trust. I looked at her, my eyes swimming with unshed tears and Midge's knife clattered to the board as she enfolded me in a hug. I had never in my life been hugged by my mother, so I imagined this is what it should've felt like. I felt very small, yet warm and protected…as if nothing in this world could ever harm me as long as these arms were my shelter. A dam burst within me and tears came in torrents, flooding down my cheeks. Midge held me while I shuddered and sniffled, crying my eyes out, rubbing small circles on my back.

"What is it, Belle?"

I shook my head and hiccupped. "N-nothing."

"Nothing's got you crying as hard as this rain, eh?"

I nodded.

Midge heaved a great sigh and held me an arm's length away from her. "You can tell me if it's one of the girls. Susanna?"

"No, no…it's nothing Midge, really," I said while wiping my eyes and taking deep calming breaths. I could tell she didn't want to, but she let me go as I insisted there wasn't anything truly wrong with me.

Under her silent stare, I looked down at my feet. Finally, she gave up on hearing me speak. "Alright then, we've got work to do," she murmured.

Nodding, I went back to stirring the beef stew, only sniffing here and there sporadically. My "work" included so little that the minutes seemed to never pass. I found myself falling asleep as I disinterestedly watched the bubbles of sauce in the pot swell and burst. Wanting to actually be engaged in something worthwhile and attention-diverting, I quietly informed Midge that I would be using the downtime to update the pantry inventories. This also assured I would be alone for a while; everyone hated taking inventory. I walked towards the spice pantry as if I were sleeping, letting a sigh of relief escape my lips when I was finally in the room alone. The heady scents of foreign spices engulfed me and my mind drifted to dreaming of the Caribbean seas. The rain and dismal atmosphere of the Eve today had me eager for adventure, despite my apprehension about and guilt over my trip. _Maybe the Caribbean sunshine will dry my tears forever_.

As I counted sticks of cinnamon and cloves of garlic, I thought of my mysterious father. _What kind of man was he?_ Jack Trade hadn't seemed to think very much of him; that was for sure. Perhaps he was a quick tempered man, given to following impulses. He hadn't become a pirate though; he was still a privateer. He may have fought unfairly, but he fought for his country. _Did that give him a certain level of honor?_ He was a traitor though; he committed the sin of adultery with the King's wife. _Does that make him…_

In the midst of my thoughts, the door to the pantry creaked open. I dropped the inventory to the stone floor in surprise as I turned and met Lucien's eyes.

"Good afternoon, Belle," he greeted me softly. "Midge told me I might find you in here."

"H-hello," I stammered.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing inventory," I blurted and gestured to the fallen list stupidly.

He laughed. "I see what you're _doing_, I asked how you were _feeling_."

"I'm fine."

Giving a small sigh and running a hand through his hair, Lucien looked at me quite seriously. I flushed under his gaze and looked at the floor.

"Midge told me you were crying wretchedly in her arms not a few minutes ago―"

"She told you?" my head snapped up.

"Yes, she did, and rightly so…and last night you left me a note saying that you were ill, but you don't look ill, just distressed. Oribelle, what is going on with you?"

I was silent for a while, debating with myself about what I should say. I could keep up the lie and tell Lucien that it was merely the moon sickness running through my blood. That was enough to make any man leave a woman alone and ask no further questions. Still, that would leave him confused and hating me when I left abruptly the next day. I could also tell him the truth, which would probably leave him feeling not too pleased with me either, but at least he wouldn't be confused. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and gave my answer.

"I'm not sick."

"That much is clear."

"I lied."

"That too."

"I'm sorry."

"Your apology is accepted, but that still doesn't answer my question. Miss Roberts, I am your employer and am concerned with your welfare as it influences my business…"

A sharp pang reverberated throughout my heart. I was just his employee and all he cared about was my performance on the job. I don't know what delusions I had entertained beforehand, but they all shattered at that moment.

"…but you are also a friend, a good friend, of mine, and friends do not just watch as one suffers in distress. Now, please…tell me, what's the matter on your mind?"

I couldn't help myself; my lower lip trembled and the tears began to fall once again. _Why is everyone in this blasted inn so _kind

"Well, I tend to employ people I like, and I tend to like kind people, so…" Lucien trailed off with a lopsided grin.

"I said that aloud?" I laughed a bit through my tears.

"Aye." He handed me his handkerchief. "Please, don't cry Belle. It can't be that horrible."

"Oh, but it is," I sniffled.

Lucien looked at me silently, probably running through all the different possible scenarios in his head. He could never imagine what I was about to say, though.

"I have to leave."

"But I must know what the matter is…"

"No, no…I meant…I have to leave…here…The Eve."

A series of emotions passed over his face, but it seemed he had finally settled on confusion. "May I enquire as to why you must leave?"

"To find my father," I answer in a small voice. "It's just something I have to do…I _have _to know. He is my father."

"He sired you, that does not mean he's your father."

My eyes flashed angrily. "So? Just because you had parents doesn't mean I can't try. My mother wished she could just forget about me, or that I would just die and my father never even knew I existed. Bellamy Roberts may not have been a real father, but he _can_ be, and that's enough."

"I apologize," Lucien said after a moment. "I just don't wish for you to leave."

"I warred with myself about this; I don't really want to leave yo― the Eve either."

"When had you planned on leaving?"

My ears burned and a stress settled in the muscles of my back, pulling them taut. I searched for an easy answer, but came up wanting desperately. There was no easy way to say this, so I chose to just blurt it out.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"At noon."

He turned and faced the shelves, resting both of his hands on the wall braces.

I felt as if I had to say something, anything, to make it seem less impulsive. "This is the only time I can go…if I miss this…I'll never know."

"Is never knowing so bad?" he asked in a strained voice, still facing the wall. I couldn't understand for the life of me why Lucien was so distressed. _It's only been maybe three months since we've known each other… _

I made my way towards him, but hesitated briefly before I let my hands rest on his shoulders. "All my life I've done for other people, I've never been able to do anything purely for myself. This is the one thing I feel I really have to do…for me, and only me."

"Just don't leave so soon," he said as he turned to face me. I let out a short breath of air as I noticed how little space was between us.

"I've told you, I have to leave at noon tomorrow. I'm sorry."

"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?"

I sighed. "Give me one good reason why I should turn my back on this, Lucien."

To my surprise, he actually considered my request and looked at me with total seriousness in his eyes. My breath caught in my throat once again as he took my hand in his and ran his thumb over the place where my pulse ran strong. I could feel my face getting hot and my mind growing fuzzier by the second. The same haze of tension that had fallen over us playing chess those few nights ago settled in the air of the spice pantry. I tried to focus on exactly what was going on, but the sweetly spiced and perfumed air and the fact that Lucien's breath was gently fanning over my face were making it difficult.

"What―" I breathed, but he placed a finger on my lips. My mouth went dry. Without thinking, I nervously licked my lips, forgetting his finger was still there. A low growl came from deep in Lucien's throat and I jumped slightly. _What's happening?_

He spoke with closed eyes. "Don't speak, just listen."

I nodded and he took his finger from my lips.

"If anyone had told me I would be in this situation when I met you three months ago, I would have laughed until I died, but here I am, asking you not to leave me, just as you asked me to hire you. The truth is, Oribelle Roberts, I love you―"

"Lucien―"

He held his hand up to stop me. "Remember, just listen. I don't know when I realized this, but there it is. You smile and I can't help but smile back, you look at me and I feel a stirring in my heart that I haven't felt in ages. I know I'm not the most expressive person, but believe me when I say…I believe in us. I know it is not proper, I know people will never understand…but there are some battles that the head must lose and the heart must win."

"Oh, Lucien," I cried. "Why now?"

He appeared to deflate. "You're still leaving?"

"Lucien, you are the reason I couldn't leave readily…as much as I love The Eve, it's only you that ties me to it, but I don't feel as though I could move forward with my life without truly knowing that past," I said with an apologetic air.

"Very well," he sighed. "You must promise me one thing, though."

"Anything."

"Promise me you will come back―"

"God willing."

"―because I will wait."

And with that he took the hand that he had been caressing and lifted it to his lips, pushing back my sleeve to lay a gentle kiss on the inside of my wrist. My eyes slid closed and I let a shuddering breath fall past my lips. Tears ran silently down my cheeks once more, but I smiled gently. As if by magic, I felt Lucien's eyes on me and I opened mine to stare back into his.

"Propriety, be damned," he muttered and in an instant one of his arms was around my waist, pulling me even closer, and the other threaded through my curls tenderly. Instinctively, I brought my arms to rest behind his neck and tilted my face up to his, leaning in slightly. His lips met mine softly and a pleasant shock ran through my entire body, warming me from my head to my toes. I lost myself in this new sensation, cinnamon air and strong yet gentle hands and soft, pressing lips.

"Lucien," I murmured against his mouth. He leaned his forehead against mine. My lips still tingled where his had pressed moments ago.

"You _will _come back."

"I will, I swear it."

"You must."

"I wouldn't leave for good, not after this."

"Good," he whispered, tracing my hairline with one finger. I shivered. "You should go to sleep; you've got a long day ahead of you."

I caught the wistfulness in his voice. "Alright, goodnight."

I turned and reached for the door handle.

"Wait."

He pulled me back to him and kissed me once more, but this was not the gentle kiss of moments ago. This was a kiss of desperation. His lips attached to mine hungrily, feasting on their fullness as if he would never taste them again. I gasped as I felt his tongue lick at the seal of my lips, giving him full entry to my mouth. His tongue played across mine, flicking and massaging, caressing with a skill that left me trembling when he pulled away.

I looked at him questioningly.

"Just wanted to be absolutely sure you would come back."

I smiled through apologetic tears. "Not even God could stop me."

With that I turned and made my way to my quarters to pack my bags.

Unfortunately for me, Lindy was not away doing random errands, she was lying on her stomach, paging through the Bible. She looked up when I closed the door.

"Well, hello…you've been crying."

"Aye," I sniffed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all. Nothing's wrong, it's just…Lindy, I'm really, truly sorry, but I have to…"

"You're leaving, too?"

"How did you―"

"A hunch, I guess. You don't have to apologize, Belle, it's your life."

"I suppose, but―"

"And I have enjoyed getting to know you in these past three months, and I will miss you, but something greater has come along hasn't it?"

"Not really greater, but leaving will help me understand some things about myself…I'm going to find my father."

"Oh, Belle, that's great," Lindy said, launching herself at me and throwing her arms around my neck. "I hope everything goes well for you."

I sighed heavily. "Me too."

"You just told Sir Foxwood, did you not?"

"Lindy, how on earth―"

"He came down here talking to Midge about you, and then we didn't see him or you for a while."

"Oh," I blushed. "Well, yes, I just told him…but I also promised him I would come back."

"Good, because he'll be dreadful without you here."

"I hardly think―"

"Before you got here, he was kindhearted, but never _warm_. When you came, he changed…for the better."

"Oh…"

"We'll all miss you, but I hope you find what you're looking for in your father," Lindy said in as serious a voice I had ever heard from her.

"Thank you, Lindy."

"I know you should probably be packing a bag right now…"

"I haven't got much to pack."

"Still…I'll leave you to it," Lindy smiled and hugged me one last time. "Don't change."

"I wouldn't dare."

She left me in the room and closed the door behind her. I sat on my bed for a few moments before finally making a move to fold my other dress and cloak and put them in a small bag. I left the bag at the foot of the bed before stretching out and closing my eyes. _Tomorrow begins a journey that will lead me places I've only dreamt of. _I would return though; I could never leave Lucien waiting for me. With that thought, I brought my fingertips to my still tingling lips…my first kiss. I smiled against my hand in contentment. I would return if only to feel his lips against mine once more.

* * *

Hey! Sorry it's been so long...school has been beating me with a baseball bat. It's soooo hard to concentrate when you're about to graduate (and you've got to wrap up a year long research project...damnit). Anyway! There was Ch. 8, hope you all enjoyed it!

**Lil' Fairy Aerie'z In Lov: **I haven't left, and I promise I won't be gone for that long again!

**EvenSong: **It was a long time coming, but I updated :-)...finally.

**RDavies4Ever: **Thank you. I was really worried about how the tavern scene would come off because I've never been in or seen a real fight before, so I just kept hoping it worked.

**Elariel Erestorion: **I love writing Oribelle...she's like my alter-ego. I never just _blurt _things out or act impulsively, so I let myself live a bit vicariously through her.


	10. Leaving It Behind

**Chapter Nine**

Legions of seagulls squawked and flapped their wings madly overhead as I stood on the docks at five minutes before noon the next day, searching for a sign of any irregularity, hoping to pick out Jack Trade from amongst the hustle and bustle surrounding me. Rainy as it had been the day before, this day saw intensely blue skies with wispy white clouds traveling lazily under the bright gold sun. I took the perfection of this day as a good omen for the rest of my travels. Suddenly, there was an increase in the noise level to my left. Jack Trade. My eyes followed the commotion and I let out a gasp of incredulity. _What on earth is the madman doing?_

Trade had apparently set the cargo of a cage of racing dogs a loose on the deck of a small clipper, giving the crew a distraction. From where I was standing, I could make out four, maybe five, men dashing about the deck, trying to recapture the dogs without getting bitten. While they frantically tried to restore order, Trade made his way to the captain's quarters. The door shut behind him, and I couldn't see what went on inside of the room, but a few seconds later, the door burst open again and the captain of the ship was pushed overboard at the point of Trade's sword. After gazing wide-eyed at this spectacle, I seemed to snap out of a trance and remembered exactly why I was here. So as not to raise suspicion, I walked briskly towards the clipper instead of running, as I truly wished to do. There was already a crowd milling about, watching. The Naval Patrol would realize what was happening soon enough. _How does he expect me to get on that blasted ship?_

I looked up once again; Trade had caught the attention of the crew, who had managed to secure all of the dogs into their cages. They circled him menacingly, but only two of the four were armed with swords. Trade grinned and winked before he flew at them, saying something ludicrous, I was sure. Still, the dilemma remained…once he had commandeered the ship, how was I supposed to get on? The only obvious solution would be to swim…_oh no. _I recalled our conversation in the tavern:

"_Alright," I said hesitantly. "Where do I meet you then, Trade?"_

_"The wharf. You'll know which ship is mine when you get there. Might have some trouble gettin' you aboard, but we'll make it. You swim any?"_

_I thought back to the time when one of the stable boys had tried to drown me in the pond behind the stables. I don't know if what I did qualified as swimming, but I was still alive and the stable boy was a bit worse for the wear for a while after that._

_"A bit."_

_"Good enough," Trade nodded at me and pushed away from the bar. _

He couldn't be serious. I watched one crew member fall from the boat after another. No, no, he was definitely serious. _Oh well, I must do what I must._

I inhaled a deep breath before jumping into the water, giving a little shriek when I found it to be icy cold. If I had any breath to spare I would be using every bit of it to curse the day I met Jack Trade.

"Hey, look at the crazy darkie in the water!" I heard a voice shout.

Chuckles and other random comments followed.

"Idiot girl must think it's the newest fashion to take a dive in the wharf!"

_Damn Jack Trade to the fiery pits of hell._

I ignored the jeering crowd and doggedly swam as best as I could to the side of the clipper, which upon closer inspection I found to be named _Blade_. The dress I wore was making this supremely difficult, but I supposed it could have been worse: I could have been wearing my heavy cloak. Just when I was nearly close enough to tread water in _Blade's _shadow, I felt a strong grip encircle my ankle. _Sea monster! _was my first (and very irrational) thought. When I turned around however, I found it was only a fallen member of _Blade's _original crew.

"You aint boardin' my ship!" he snarled, pulling on my ankle, making me choke on the sea water.

"Let…me…go!" I ground out and kicked out with my foot.

"Oooh!" he howled and his head snapped backwards. Not sparing a second glance, I continued on. When I was finally within distance of catching a rope, I was nearly breathless and experiencing muscle fatigue like I had never felt before, but I found enough energy to holler up to Trade.

"Hey! Trade! You made me swim out here, now give me a rope! Oy! TRADE, YOU TOSSER!"

His face appeared over the side, smiling a ridiculously cheerful smile. "Oh, hello Oribelle, nice to see you again…what are you doing in the water?"

My face must've gone through twelve different expressions of extreme anger because it was only a moment later that the smile slipped hastily from his face and a rope came down the side to meet me. I grabbed it and began to climb, muttering to myself.

"Stupid, infuriating, detestable, slimy little―"

I broke off, panting.

"I could use some help!"

No answer.

All of the sudden the ship began to move. I banged against the side of it.

"Hey!"

I turned my head to look at the wharf. The Naval Patrol had arrived and was coming after us. _Shite. _Trade had to have cut the mooring ropes in hope of out-sailing the Patrol. I didn't think they'd be too fussed about catching a small ship carrying racing dogs, and Trade didn't seem to be a high-stakes criminal, but I could never be sure. I climbed faster, against the wind. _Once I get some rest, he's going to be answering to my fist, for sure. _Heaving great breaths, I pulled myself up over the banister and fell unceremoniously onto the deck. Against my will, my eyes slid closed. My last thought was a fervent prayer that the Patrol did not catch us. I could never return to the Eve if I was a convict.

* * *

When I came to, I was lying on a bed in what must've been the captain's quarters. Night had fallen and the only sound to be heard was the gentle slapping of the waves against the sides of the ship. _Blade_ rocked from side to side gently, comfortingly. I sat up slowly, stretching as I did so. There was still an intense tightness in my muscles, but I stood and walked out of the room anyway. My dress was still uncomfortably damp, and I knew it would dry stiffly because of the sea water. As I looked to the front end of the boat, I saw Trade standing at the helm, looking as peaceful as I had ever seen a man. He was quietly humming to himself. Shame I was about to do what I did.

"Bastard," I rasped, coming up behind him.

His head whipped about, sharply. "Well that's not very nice."

"You could have killed me!"

"Don't be so dramatic, if you'd fallen off the rope, I would have lowered the lifeboat."

"Life― the whole time I was climbing the rope, you had a lifeboat on deck?"

"Aye, I did."

I gaped, lost for words. He took a look at my face and quickly made to explain.

"It would have taken too long for me to drop it safely with the Patrol following us. Luckily, they lost interest. It's not so bad, right? I _did _pick you up and put you in the captain's bed."

Grudgingly, I grunted some noise of agreement. "What are we going to do with the dogs?"

"Well, we're going to stop in Port Gillian to sell them, buy some provisions and pick up a crew. I know some people."

"Since you've made me ruin a good dress, I'll be needing another one of those."

"I checked in the hold, there's a fair few fine dresses down there. It seems I picked a private ship en route to some rich family that had sent someone out to do their shopping. I'm guessing the man of the house bought the dogs and the woman bought the dresses."

"Alright, but if they don't fit―"

"We'll get you a dress," he sighed.

"Good. How long until we reach Port Gillian?"

"We'll be there by the time the sun rises again."

I was silent for a moment. "Who do you―"

"Would you just go and try on the dresses?" Trade interrupted me.

"Fine, but we're talking later."

I tuned and gingerly found my way to the hold, going down some narrow stairs into the belly of the ship. It was dark and humid, and I could barely see three feet in front of my face with the small lantern I held in my hand. Just as I was thinking how pointless my nighttime search was, I nearly tripped over a large trunk. _The dresses. _

Upon hanging the lantern I was carrying on a peg in the wall, I found there to be a series of lantern lining the side of the hold. I lit another two of them, significantly brightening the place, and set about discovering what finery lay inside of the trunks. With a good quantity of effort, I lifted the top of one and gasped. I had only dreamed of such things. I had watched Christelle twirl merrily in vibrantly colored dresses of the finest silk. It _had _to be my turn. _Please let them fit._

Peeling off the seawater-soiled dress and linen chemise I'd been wearing, I slipped the soft cotton chemise over my head, marveling at the feel of it, loving the way the sleeves billowed around my arms. If I hadn't been Christelle's lady maid, I wouldn't have known what to do with the assortment of costume I saw next. I settled on trying on the black silk skirt under the wine-colored satin jacquard one. They were a bit snug, but I supposed that was how those fashions were worn. Under the faint candle light, the gold embroidery at the hem of the skirt shone richly. Upon further inspection of the trunk I found the matching bodice, which, thankfully, laced at the front with golden ribbon, dipping low across my chest and cinching at my waist.

"They'd die if they could see me now," I whispered to the empty hold. "Just die."

I wasn't sure to whom I was referring, but I supposed it could have been anyone who'd ever belittled me. The dress gave me an extra something, which made me feel as if I could do anything. I closed the trunk once again and blew out all but one of the lanterns, taking one with me as I made my way up the stairs.

As I expected, Jack Trade was still at the helm.

"When are you planning on sleeping?" I asked.

He answered me without even turning around. "I don't."

"That's ridiculous, everyone sleeps."

"If I promise I'll sleep after we reach Port Gillian, will you leave me alone?"

"Maybe," I sang. I was silent for a few beats before thinking of another question. "So how long d'you think it will take to reach the Caribbean from Port Gillian?"

I could sense rather than see the muscles in his jaw twitch.

"Rough estimate?"

"A month and a half. Why don't you go do some exploring, yeah?"

"Alright, but one last question."

"Aye?" he sighed heavily.

"Why are you so keen on taking me to my father?" I asked with a sharpness present in my voice that had not been there before. I'd had him thinking I was a simple, curious girl with my questioning before; not so. "What's in this for you, then? There's got to be a profit in this for you."

Unsurprisingly, I didn't get an answer. Trade stood stiff-backed at the helm, appearing as though he hadn't heard me at all.

"You can answer me tomorrow, but I will get an answer."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "You think you can command an answer from me?"

"Oh, I can."

I had to be his bargaining chip of some sort. From our conversation in the tavern I garnered that Trade had ill feelings towards my father. He seemed to be embittered towards him at the very least. Trade was going to use my existence to get something from my father; that much was evident. _But what, and how…and why? _If I suddenly disappeared from the ship, Trade would be out of luck once again. I was betting on the chance that I could find another ship en route to the Caribbean and board it disguised as a young boy. He would not use me without me first knowing how, why and for what purpose.

I left Trade to think on my words and made my way back to the captain's quarters where I reluctantly removed the skirts and the corseted bodice of my fine dress and settled under the covers in my chemise. Before long the rocking of the boat lulled me into a deep sleep.


	11. Sail On

**Chapter 10**

True to his word, Trade had delivered us safely to Port Gillian by the time I had awoken. Unfortunately, he had not seen fit to inform me of our arrival and had left me on the ship with the empty dog cages while he went off to sell them, buy provisions and find his crew. Naturally, I was outraged, but I had been occupying my time by reading the old captain's log, and it was interesting, but not quite enough. From what I'd read he was just a boring man who transported goods for rich families who were too lazy to do their own shopping, but he seemed to love the sea more than anything. A twinge of apology shot through me as I realized Trade had taken what had probably been his most prized possession. _Oh well, nothing can be done about that now. _Tossing the log aside, I stretched and set off for the hold once again to see what other treasures I could unearth.

I was not disappointed. There were three other dresses inside the trunk besides the one I was wearing, along with a few pieces of jewelry. I gazed at the lovely peach, blue, and green creations, admiring their simple richness for a few moments before a flash of silver caught my eye. Hanging along the wall were two long swords, probably belonging to the two unarmed sailors Trade had tossed overboard. Wondering how I had missed them the night before, I took one down and held it in front of me. _Too heavy. _The other one though, felt surprisingly light in contrast. Lying on the floor beneath the swords were two scabbards, one of which I put the sword in and tied around my waist. Most likely, I would not need to use the sword (I didn't know how, anyway), but for some reason it comforted me to know it was there.

_What trouble can I get myself into onboard? _It was not a question of if I was going to get in trouble; it was just a question of _when_. I had a knack for hacking people off and finding misadventure. This coming month was going to be interesting…living with the same people in this small space. I wondered if Trade would let me stay in the captain's quarters. I looked to the bunks at the far side of the hold. _Hopefully._

Sudden raucous laughter and heavy footsteps jolted me out of my musings. Trade must've returned with his crew and provisions. I closed the top of the trunk and made my way up the ladder with some hesitation; I was still sore from the day before. Blinking at the sudden light, I shaded my eyes and observed the three men Trade had chosen to add to the crew.

"Woman? On board?" one asked. "Trade, you know I aint one for that. 'S bad luck of the worst kind!" the largest one exclaimed upon laying eyes on me. His neck must've been the size of one of my thighs and his scarred, sun-weathered face looked fierce with heavily drawn, bushy, black eyebrows, but his dark eyes gazed at me with fear and suspicion. He wore some kind of charm around his neck; he must've been heavily superstitious.

"Well, she's not really a woman, see―" Trade began.

I glared at him fiercely and my mouth opened to say something scathing.

"―she's more like cargo, Bruise."

That wasn't much better than what I thought he'd been about to say, but I closed my mouth anyway. The other man's name was _Bruise_? _Well he certainly looks as if he's capable of placing multiple bruises on someone's body._

"I don't know about this…" Bruise shook his great, shaggy head.

"If he leaves, I leave!" interjected a less massive, but still quite fierce looking man with wild, vividly red hair. Every available part of his body carried some weapon or another, and I suspected he had a few concealed somewhere on his person.

"Rage, Bruise―"

_Rage?_

"―I promise you, Oribelle won't be causing any problems. The only reason they say women are bad luck aboard is because they cause jealousy and break the bonds of brotherhood. Who here would want to touch her?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. "You arsehole! It's not like I want anything to do with any of you anyway! Besides, I―"

"She does have a bit of a mouth on her, too much trouble," Bruise cocked his head at me. I glared at him. "Looks a bit scary, too."

I found it amusing that a glare from me scared him.

"So see? No bad luck from the cargo, no reason to leave, aye? Smidgen, you got anything you want to add?"

I looked to the man…no, boy, called Smidgen. He came no higher than my shoulder and looked as if a strong wind might blow him away. He was of average looks, with bland, faded-looking coloring and his age was impossible to guess. I put him somewhere between an old fourteen and a young eighteen. In response to Trade's question, he solemnly shook his head.

"Alright then. Oribelle, this is Bruise, Rage and Smidgen. They'll be the crew. Smidgen, you're on lookout duty in the crow's nest. Rage, you're my quartermaster and I know you really want to be polishing your many weapons, but right now I need you manning the sails. Bruise, take the provisions down to the hold. Oribelle, come with me."

"Aye, Captain," they all said, except for me. Stiffly, I followed Trade to the helm. He did not even turn to face me as he gripped the wheel and began to speak.

"I know you're angry―"

"Damn right I am! You―"

"Get over it. It's going to be a long month with that attitude."

I sighed in annoyance, but quickly composed myself. "There won't be a month with me on this ship if you don't tell me why you want me here."

"Why _I _want you here? Oribelle, you're the one going to see your precious _father._"

"Yes, but why would you be so kind as to take me to see him if you stand nothing to gain? I know you're planning on using my existence against him, and I tell you this: I won't be used without my permission."

"You don't have a choice."

"I've always got a choice."

"Like you'll find another way to get there," Trade scoffed. "You don't even know where it is that you're going."

"That's true, aye, but it's my word against yours when we reach wherever it is we're going. If I say you kidnapped me and it's a hoax, that's what it'll be. Then you have nothing. I _know _you're trying to use me as a bargaining chip. I know it. Why?"

He was silent for a few more moments, and I began to seriously doubt he would ever tell me. I was about to turn around and walk away when suddenly, words came from his lips. "It's a long conversation we're about to have. Captain's quarters…"

I nodded and followed him to there, closing the door after myself. He threw himself into the desk chair with a heavy sigh and I slowly sat down on the bed. Massaging his forehead with one hand, he began to speak.

"I knew you wasn't exactly stupid, so I suppose I should've prepared meself for this talk earlier."

I gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Alright, well…when I was fourteen, my parents died, leaving me nothing. They were poor folk, never saved one pence. I wasn't the type to work neither, didn't care for it. So I figured I'd become a sailor…never spend to long in one place, see the world, drink as much as I wanted. Well, turns out being a sailor had rules to it too and I didn't want to follow them too much, so I decided I'd leave…but I liked sailing the sea. I'd heard some of my shipmates talking about turning to privateering…more gold, see, and none of that stuff about being a convict―"

"What's this got to do with me?"

He fixed me with a hard eye. "I'm tellin' it from the beginning."

"If you must…" I sighed in perfect imitation of the old queen, my mother. Trade was silent, still glaring at me. "Well go on, then!"

With the air of someone greatly annoyed, he began where he left off. "So I decided I'd become a privateer. I was in a tavern, getting' pissed, and I heard about this man named Bellamy Roberts. Decided I'd go lookin' for him and give the privateer thing a go. Well, I found him, and I joined his crew. Cap'n Roberts took a liking to me after I told him about his quartermaster spreadin' the word of mutiny across his ship. See, some of the crew didn't take to doin' everything legal…it was less plunder than being a pirate."

"So you and my father became good friends, then?"

"Best of ma―"

"And then…"

Trade shot me another dirty look. "Bruise is right about you, you've got an uncontrollable mouth."

I merely grinned impudently and gestured for him to continue. Trade grunted.

"So we sailed together for ten years. Ten years I'd never said a word against the man when I was sober. Ten years I'd been his right hand. _Ten years _I supported him in every decision he made. The one time I questioned his judgment after _ten years_, he went mad."

"What did you say?" I asked with curiosity.

"It was at the time when there was a long stretch of peace between the English and the French as well as the Spanish and Portuguese; there wasn't much use for privateers then. Roberts would never turn to pirating though; the man always had to have a 'cause.' The men were getting unruly, and try as I might to talk them down, they didn't want to stay aboard a ship where there was no gold to be earned. I came to Roberts and informed him of the crew's mutterings. He didn't listen. I warned him three times of what was happening under his nose. He called me a liar, said I was using the men to speak for myself. My last effort was to direct his attention elsewhere. I suggested to him that he turn his attention to seeking pirates and capturing them for different governments."

"And he didn't want to."

"Not only did he not want to, he became convinced that I was trying to steal the captaincy from him, convinced I was the ringleader of the mutiny. Sealing this conviction of his, we were attacked without warning by Spanish pirates, and many of our men surrendered to join the pirate ship. I did not leave, but Roberts was incensed. He accused me of calling the ship to our location, organizing the whole thing…anyway, long story short he chucked me."

"That's…sad and all, but…I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"You aint patient, either."

"I'm trying!"

"Bellamy Roberts has always been a man very careful with his possessions. The first word he spoke when he was a babe must've been 'mine'. No one dared steal from him because he'd cut their hand off and feed it to them; I wouldn't put it past him―"

"My father is a cruel man?"

"No…no, I wouldn't say cruel. Possessive. Obsessive. He goes mad when something doesn't add up the way it should. Cruel like a reckless murderer who loves killing for the sake of smelling fresh blood? No…he's not that. He's too self-righteous for that."

"He's insane?"

"Sometimes. He's a normal man, just a bit…more."

"So you think he'll give you whatever it is you want because you have me?"

"The night he chucked me, he took something very dear to me. It was the only thing my father had ever given me; a piece of a map―"

I opened my mouth to speak.

"―Now don't get all excited. Aint no such thing as a treasure map. No pirate I know ever buried his treasure, he frittered it away. This is a map to all the pirate and privateer routes. I don't know how my father got a hold of this map, but he did. Must've found it lying in a bar somewhere 'cause the man never set foot aboard a ship. He was a carpenter. Anyway…" he began again loudly because he could see I was getting restless again.

"Anyway, Roberts has my piece of the map and I've been unable to sail since. I can't sail properly without my map. The other piece, I've found, but it isn't much good without the piece that has all the writing on it. I give you to your father, he gives me my map. Everything is fine."

I was silent for a few moments. "You honestly expect me to believe you don't want revenge on the man who…betrayed you?"

"No, but you're going to have to accept that for now. I've got a ship to be sailing. Is that good enough for you?"

"For now," I said, echoing his own words.

"Good, because you weren't going to be getting anything else anyway."

He got up to leave.

"So what do I do?" I asked. "Everyone has a job but me."

"You…don't get in anyone's way."

"But…that's it?"

"What can you do?"

"I don't know. If you just leave me to my own devices, I'll just muck something up," I threatened in all seriousness.

Trade gave a great sigh and muttered a curse. "Fine, you stay with me this week, learn the basics of sailing, can't have you being useless…then I'll let you train with Rage. Everyone on this ship fights."

"Alright," I said brightly, but darkened my tone as I brushed past him out of the doorway. "Don't think I trust you."

"You'd be a fool if you did."

I nodded and made my way to the helm with him. We passed Rage along the way. His wildfire hair had been tied back so I could see his piercing jade eyes, which were trained on me with scrutiny.

"Thought you said no fraternizing, Trade."

Before Trade could say anything I fiercely interjected.

"I've just about had enough of being pegged for being something I'm not. I aint no whore, aint no wench, so don't you ever suggest I am again. I don't care how many weapons you know how to use, I don't care how many places you can put a knife on your body, don't you dare talk about me in that way!"

To my surprise, instead of appearing angry, Rage grinned widely and clapped his hands.

"What?" I snapped. "Why do you look so pleased?"

"You've got spirit, I like that."

"I don't care if you like me or not, just don't disrespect me because you think you can."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he looked at me with interest. "I see you've a sword, yes? You know how to fight with words, can you fight with the sword as well?"

"No," I said shortly, eyeing him warily.

"Would you like to learn?"

_Very much. _It would give me something to occupy my time with, and I could learn something useful for once. I looked sideways at Trade; he'd said I'd be learning the basics of sailing from him this week. I did not choose my answer because I was following his orders; I just decided it would be easier to do things this way.

"After this week, yes. This week I'm to learn the basics of sailing."

"Fair enough," he nodded at Trade, who beckoned for me to follow him.

"And I aint no dog, either," I scowled, but followed him anyway, being sure to step on his heels at least once.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not quite satisfied with Trade's reason for taking Belle to her father...or Roberts's reason for chucking Trade off of his ship. I know where I'm taking Belle, but how she gets there is baffling me, and a big part of how she gets where she's going is the relationship between Trade and her father and why Trade feels he can use her against him. Sigh. Anyone have any feedback + or - on that?

* * *

**Thanks to...**

**Shadowkeepre: **Thanks! Dialogue is really important to me...to the point where I almost completely ignore prose. I'm trying to work on not being so dialogue-heavy, but I love writing it.

**Dawn E: **I'm so dizzy-minded, I'll try harder to keep the updates coming, though. It's a work in progress (oh, is it ever!).

**Clargirl5: **I'm trying! Lol.

**Mistyqueen: **I hope I didn't disappoint with thewhole Trade-taking-Belle-to-her-father thing. If you have any comments on it, please, do tell!

**Brianna: **What did you think of this chapter?

**Trianna: **Nope, I've never read anything by Kat Martin. I looked at the summary on and it seems as if the beginning and that one character name are similar, but this story will take some twists and turns. It's actually uncanny how similar the beginnings are, however Belle didn't set out to seduce Lucien, as with most things in life...their relationship just kind of happened. There's a lot more that must go on in Belle's life, though...

**Koneko Ariez: **Yep, Bellamy Roberts is really Oribelle's father. As for what happens between Lucien and Belle...only time will tell!

**EvenSong: **I'm finally getting used to the fact that high school is over...forever...and now I've got college in 21 days! (And if I thought HS was beating me, college is going to be an eye-opener, especially since I'm in two different honors programs, eek!) Aw, I'm glad you liked the _romance, _I have a really difficult time trying to write it realistically. I wasn't too cheesy?

* * *

**Please read and review with constructive criticism, good or bad, I'd really love to know what I need to work on, what's good and what I need more of!**


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